A Night on the Town
by atlimbo
Summary: This is not how Blair pictured her last night of singledom.


**Title:** A Night on the Town, so to speak  
><strong>FandomChar(s):** Gossip Girl| Dan & Blair (mentions of Blair/Louis)  
><strong>RatingWarnings:** Gen.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> This is _not_ how Blair pictured her last night of singledom.  
><strong>AN:**Spoilers for up to the end of Season 4 & speculation for Season 5! Not beta'ed. Gossip Girl and its characters are not my property.

Blair sat at the bar at the Oak Room, by herself, rather morosely mixing her drink with the small red straw that came in it. She hadn't felt in the mood for gin, and had instead ordered a whiskey sour double, Jameson, of course. It was three weeks to her 21st birthday, and she'd been back in the city for two days, and yet she sat alone with a cocktail.

The wedding would be over in 20 hours, and she'd be honeymooning with Louis on a private island off the Southern coast of Greece in roughly 40 hours. And yet she sat alone, with a cocktail, in a bar that she didn't even particularly like anymore - it was so dark and trying _so hard_to be edgy, she was surprised its clientele didn't adorn black turtlenecks and choke the room with clove smoke. Of course, as if she conjured him with her thought of pretentious beatniks, Dan Humphrey sits down next to her. "Serena called me," he says by way of explanation, flagging down the bartender and ordering a glass of pinot noir.

"And why would she do that?" Blair asks in a droll tone, not even looking his way. She takes another drink.

"Seems the Bride wasn't in the mood for Tiffany's marathoning and slumber partying as was planned. You worried her." He lifts an eye brow as his wine is delivered and leans in a bit, the scent of her lilac and vanilla perfume hitting him, surprising him in it's familiarity.

"As the Bride, that's my prerogative." She finally looks his way to see him dressed in a stark white button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is slightly disheveled, as if he'd been in a rush to rescue her from herself. That's Brooklyn, she thinks, White Knight syndrome that even the Archibald's couldn't rival. The thought of Nate makes her smile a little bit sadly. "Really though, what are you doing here, Humphrey? It's not like you've attended any of the pre-wedding revels, are you even planning to still attend?"

Her suddenly angry turn shocks him and he sits, mouth open, without response. She smirks, "I thought so. And here I'd thought an entire year of non-friendship would've meant something more." She moves to leave and he puts a hand on hers.

"I haven't been the most popular at functions in the Upper East Side since the book..." He begins, the mention of _Inside_making her eyes flash with hurt and lock on his own. Faltering, he swallows thickly and says, "I thought it better to leave that drama out of the festivities. Not that I don't want to celebrate with you though, finally getting your Prince and all the trappings of royalty like you've always wanted." His voice is bitter there and she settles back into her seat.

"And here I thought Serena had sent you to cheer me up when I wouldn't answer her calls. Not that I need cheering up, of course." She plasters a Queen B grin on her face and waves for the bartender to bring her another round. "You're right, of course, it's better not to mix social standings - tomorrow afternoon I'll be a princess."

The sound of her, the closeness of her, as she says such breaks his already fragile-when-it-comes-to-Blair-Waldorf heart and he looks away, taking a long drink of his heady wine. Finally pulling himself out of his thoughts he replies, "Then you're right, I don't know why Serena would have called me." He slides a twenty across the bar and makes to stand. Stopping to pull on a dark gray peacoat, he says, "I'm sure you'll be a beautiful Bride tomorrow, Blair," and he sounds sad. She looks up at him and the gloom in his eyes confirms what she'd read in his book. This is the look of a man saying goodbye to a woman he loves, she thinks, and she doesn't know why it bothers her so much.

Nodding, she says with a soft smile, "I wouldn't be anything less," and he nods in agreement before taking his leave. She receives her fresh drink with a regal air, nose slightly in the air, chin jutted out more than it had been a moment before. "I'll be perfect," she says to herself, before failing and looking over her shoulder to search out a familiar dark head of hair in the crowd, but he's already gone.


End file.
